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An African Thunderstorm
From the west
Clouds come hurrying with the wind
Turning
Sharply
Here and there
Like a plague of locusts
Whirling
Tossing up things on its tail
Like a madman chasing nothing.
Pregnant clouds
Ride stately on its back
Gathering to perch on hills
Like dark sinister wings;
The Wind whistles by
And trees bend to let it pass.
In the village
Screams of delighted children
Toss and turn
In the din of the whirling wind.
Women —
Babies clinging on their backs —
Dart about
In and out
Madly
The Wind whirls by
Whilst trees bend to let it pass.
Clothes wave like tattered flags
Flying off
To expose dangling breasts
As jaggered blinding flashes
Rumble, tremble, and crack
Amidst the smell of fired smoke
And the pelting march of the storm.
— David Rubadiri
Reference
Rubadiri, D. (1989). An African thunderstorm. In D. Rubadiri (Ed.), Growing up with poetry: An anthology for secondary schools (p. 38). Heinemann Educational Books.
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